Bound
by JustNotNormal
Summary: August Vipern and Isabelle Martin thought they were ready for the games, but oh, how wrong they were. Everything changes for them when they are picked for the games, but will either make it out alive? Co written by CR3ATIV3 and JustNotNormal! Rated T for violence and stuff!
1. Chapter 1

_**This is Chapter 1 of Bound!**_

_**It was Co-Written by myself and CR3ATIV3!**_

_**Neither of us are Suzanne Collins and all we own from this fanfiction are the characters!**_

_**We hope you enjoy it!**_

_August's POV_

The trees shook, being blown from a violent storm. A man in denim dungarees and a green checked shirt ran over to us and shouted "STOP! GO HOME THE STORM IS TOO BAD!" I started to run and my dad scooped my up, lifting me to his shoulders "Come on son!" He muttered, only loud enough for me to hear.

Behind us there was a crunching noise and a few people screamed. One of the trees we had been hacking at started to fall, hitting the ground with a thump! My dad turned long enough for me to catch a glimpse of a woman's body pressed underneath the tree. The only thing worse than realising who had died, was hearing my father scream in pain, and cry for the first time I could remember.

I was only nine, I couldn't hold this burden alone, but I had to and I did. I mean, many people have seen death, we've all seen the Hunger Games! But not like this. No nine year old child should watch their mother die.

-[PAGE BREAK-

I wake up, cold, shaking with fear. Sweat pouring down my face like a waterfall. My bed covers, tangled around me, wrapping me up and immobilising me. I hate my nightmares, sometimes they were about that one night, or they were about other nights since, since her death.

I look up at the clock on the wall-9:00. My dad will still be asleep and he won't be up until about midday, from his hangover. Especially today, reaping day, he likes to get extra drunk on the night before the reaping! I never know why.

I slowly pull my blood stained covers from around by body and dump them on the bed, I'll wash them later! I stand up and stretch my arms above my head, pulling the muscles in my arms and back.

Pain immediately shoots through me, all over my back. I stand in front of a mirror and stare at my bare chest. I see the strong muscles moving as I breathe. I turn and stare at my back. The scars are still there, not yet disappeared. Of course they're still there, all the scars from my father's drunken nights.

After my mother died something snapped in my father's mind, he started getting angry at me whenever I did something. He had his share of good days and bad days though, but then he started drinking. The drink poisoned his mind, making every good day a bad one and the bad ones even worse! Every evening after I got home from work (I got an after school job) he was drunk. Whatever I did he got angry at and he whipped me with his belt.

I carefully slip my red t-shirt over my back, to cover up the worst stains and pull on my old tattered jeans before slipping silently downstairs, grabbing my jacket and my dad's old trainers as I leave through the door. I run towards the woods, we live on the edge of the village so it doesn't take me long to find a group of men hacking away at today's specified area of trees.

In our district we are split into groups, each group having a small area of land to clear each day. I was put into this group last year, once I turned 16. Before that they just let the people under 16 go with their parents or, for some people like me, with a friend. My group is nice, I'm the youngest person there and everyone helps each other.

When I join my group they pass me a big axe, bigger than the ones I'm used to. I throw the axe at a tree ahead of me and some of my group smile at me. We have a running joke where we must throw out axe onto the tree we are planning on chopping.

We spend hours hacking away at trees before I'm told its 12 o'clock and I must leave for the reaping. I grab some sticks for a fire as I jog home to heat up a bath of water over it. I take some bread from the cupboard along with some berries from a bush I had to cut down a few days ago. As I eat my food I think, what if I get reaped? I'm strong, I'd leave my dad and I have a good chance of winning. But I'd also have a good chance of dying, I'd never get to fall in love, get a good job and have kids!

I drag my bath into my room and take off my t-shirt sending more pain throughout my body. There is a bang in the main room as my dad trips through the door. He walks into my room and shouts "A BATH? YOU'RE WASTING OUR WATER!" He starts to undo his belt and raises above his head.

I turn away from him as he brings it down. It hit's me across my spine, forcing me to cry out in pain as it feels like I've been struck by lightning. As his and comes down for another hit I remember all the times he's hit me before. I think of all the times he's screamed at me and shouted so loud the neighbours could hear it all. No one ever bothered us; even the peacekeepers were too scared.

When the belt stoked my back I don't scream I just sob silently into the floor hoping for the pain to go away, but of course it doesn't. It only takes five more lashes before my dad crumpled to the floor, unconscious. I finish undressing and slip silently into the bath, the water stinging my cuts for a while but cleans them, stopping the blood from flowing out. The bath calms my senses and helps me to relax.

As I drag myself from the watery depths of the old tub think feel the pain surging through my body from the movement of my muscles. I slowly slip on the dark green shirt and black shorts that my father wore for his reapings. They fit me well because we're both the same build, quite tall with broad shoulders and big muscles; we're both quite thin too! I like how I look; it's similar to most of the people in my district. We're all strong from our constant chopping at trees. Most people have brown hair and brown eyes. I on the other hand have green eyes, not many have green eyes because most of the green eyed people must happened to have died, just a bit of a coincidence really!

I grab my favourite jacket and fill the pockets with my most treasured things. My father's old watch, a picture of my family just before my mother died (my dad said it took us a year to save up for it) and my mother's necklace that was handed down through our family. I take these items with me every year to the reaping, just in case I get picked.

I start to take the long road to the district's centre. I don't see many people but the ones I do see stay away from me because they're scared. After about an hour of walking I finally reach the reaping.

The reaping is held at 2pm on the first Saturday of June every year in the town square next to the justice building. It's exactly the same every year, the stage in front of the justice building never changes and we always have the same person on the stage. Every year this annoying capitol woman, with a bright green wig and a dress large enough to fit about 10 children in, comes onto the stage and introduces the reaping. She always shows us the same video about the games and the capitol and frankly, I find it all very boring!

I walk up to the line of people waiting to have their blood taken by some peacekeepers. I'm at the end of the line and no one joins me because in one of the last people here, I'm late! Once I reach the end of the line the peacekeeper jabs my finger with a pen thing and I press it to the page. I don't bother to watch him check my blood, I just run to the group of boys my age just as the reaping begins. I stand next to my friend Manx and he silently mouths 'you okay?' I nod and look to the justice building just as the doors open. A capitol man strides out towards the microphone

Whispers of confusion flood through the crowd. Who is this man, where is Mai, the lady who's done the reapings every other year. This man has shot green hair with streaks of red in it. It is gelled up into spikes making him look a bit like a painted hedgehog. His arms and legs are covered in tattoos and he has piercings all over his ears. He I'd wearing a blood red shirt and long green trousers that look too hot for this sweltering heat. He looks quite young, maybe 21/22 but he also looks very scary.

His face breaks into a nice smile. "Welcome to the 64th annual hunger games!" He says in a kind voice through the microphone "I am Menic Lenox and I am taking Mai's place as she has now retired from the job. Anyway here is a short video about the games!" The screen flickers on and the film starts. It's the same one every year and I notice most of the people around me mouthing every word. Once it is over Menic carries on speaking "so on to the reaping! Ladies first!" He buries his hand into the girl's bowl. After an anxious minute of rummaging around he pulls out a slip of paper.

"Danielle Jovinia!" Menic says into the microphone. A young girl, not older than 14 shuffles her feet as she walks onto the stage. Menic greets her and goes to the boy's bowl. My head starts spinning and I don't hear the name. I just walk towards the stage one thought I my mind. 'I can escape, I can escape my father!' A peacekeeper grabs my arms, pulling me back to my senses. I see a 15 year old boy stood on stage, shaking head to toe.

"I Volunteer!" I shout at the stage and the boy looks at me, a smile spreading across his face. I don't smile back, I just march to the stage with my head held high doing my best to show no expression even though I'm terrified! "What's your name?" Menic says. "August. August Vipern!" I mutter into the microphone.

I look around and notice many people whispering to each other but I try to ignore them! I know people are just talking about my dad, I don't care though. "So the tributes, from district 7, for the 64th annual hunger games are: Danielle and August!" Menic says excitedly "Tributes, please shake hands." I quickly glance at Menic before reaching out my hand to the Danielle.

She grasps my hand weakly and I feel her shaking, I steady our hands and shake slightly more exaggerated than a normal one, for the camera. We both walk into the justice building and some peacekeepers guide us into our own separate rooms, to say our final farewells.

_**Thanks for reading and please review!**_

**_Also please look at my other stories and CR3ATIV3's stories!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Sorry this took a while but the website on which myself and CR3ATIV3 were writing this got deleted and we had to start over!  
We own nothing except our own characters and plot!  
Please review, even if you don't like it, tell us why!**

When I wake up, my heart sinks because I know what day it is today. I crawl slowly out of bed and dress in a pale purple dress with short sleeves, which I have worn to readings for the last two years and stand in front of the mirror. My long, dark red, almost brown hair falls loose over my shoulders, and my eyes, which are reddish-brown in the middle and green around the edges, are the same as my mother's. I wander down the stairs to the kitchen, where my mother has made the usual reaping day breakfast of fish, eggs, bacon and pancakes.

District 4, where I live, is quite a rich district because we have had a lot of victors over the years, so we get free things from the Capitol. Our family is also quite rich as both my brother and I got paid to train as careers, before he died and I quit.

Two years ago, my brother, who was 18 at the time, volunteered as tribute. He was probably one of the best careers our district has ever had, but I guess he just - well, others were better.

He was in the final two. The other tribute was also an 18 year old boy from district 2. They fought for what seemed like hours, and towards the end, you could see that they were both weak and tired. My brother collapsed to the ground, breathing raggedly. He seemed to have given up. The other boy stood over him, and brought the sword down, into his back.

I remember watching the tv alone in the house as my brother died. Both my parents would come home from work later to find me sat, silent and shell-shocked, in front of the TV which had long since been turned off. For two weeks after that, I never left the house except to go down to the beach, where I would sit for hours, remembering all the tiny details of him that I refused to forget; the way he laughed, the way he spoke, the way he walked, the way he looked at me, the way he was my only friend.

I snap back from reality. I often slip into these memories. I haven't spoken more than a few sentences to anyone but my parents for two years. The depression that threatened to kill me never really went away. It has sat inside me for so long, just beneath the surface, never willing to go. After about five minutes of pushing the food back and forth across the plate, I get up from the table.

There are still a few hours until the reaping, which starts at noon, so I walk in the opposite direction to the town square, towards the beach. I sit on the tallest sand dune, letting the cool breeze blow through my hair. The beach is empty apart from me, and I am quite hidden, so I let all the tears, that I have held in for what seems like decades, run down my cheeks, safe in the knowledge that I won't be disturbed. I curl up into a little ball, crying into my knees and think of my brother.

My poor helpless brother, beaten by the most famous tribute known, Brutus. He deserves to go back to the games now and be taught a lesson. _'I hate Brutus, I hate him so much!' _I think to myself. A rage burns up inside me whenever I think of him, district 2 or the games. I just want to avenge my brother in any way possible, but I may have to wait until I'm 18 and ready. But I won't go into the games, I can't put my parent's through that though.

I lie down on the sand and try to remember all the good things about my brother, in an attempt to drive the anger away.

_-[PAGE BREAK]-_

After two hours, I say goodbye to both my parents, and walk down the sandy streets to the centre of town. In the square, hundreds of children stand in ordered rows. I sign my name in and stand with the other 17 year old girls, none of whom I know well. Although I go to school now, I don't talk to anyone and spend most of my spare time in the library.

I see the other girls talking and pointing not-so-discreetly at me, but I pretend not to notice them. According to the giant digital clock on the front of the scrubbed, grey stone justice building, we should start in five minutes. I stand, silently praying that I don't get chosen.

The woman that calls the names for our district, Celeste, takes her place on the stage. Her hair is dyed blue and decorated with fish-shaped blinking lights.

"Hello, everyone! How nice to see you all here today, on this, the most special of occasions! Welcome to the 64th annual Hunger Games!" She opens the ceremony. I'm already fed up of her stupid Capitol voice, and I've only been listening for ten seconds!

"To start, I have with me a video, brought to you directly from the Capitol! Isn't that a privilege?" Sure, if you say so.

The screen on the wall of the justice building bursts into life with an image of the shining Capitol in all its glory.

"Panem. Our great country has not always been as peaceful and golden as it is today. The peace was won after years of a terrible war. Hundreds died, but the years that have followed have been the best this country has ever seen. To celebrate this peace, and keep war at bay, every year one courageous young man and woman shall be offered up as tributes to fight to the death, knowing that the victor will be the bravest, the strongest and the best. May the odds be ever in your favour." During this speech, images of war, bodies, crying children and men with guns flash across the screen.

"Wasn't that special? Well, here we go! Ladies first!" She dips her manicured hand into the big glass bowl filled with girls' names and plucks one from the surface. After a second of fumbling with the folded paper with her too-long nails, she calls out the name.

"Isabelle Martin!" She shouts.

The girls around me turn and gape at me. I almost wait for someone to volunteer for me, before remembering that careers only volunteer for those under 16. I walk numbly towards the stage without really realising what's happening, and take my place next to Celeste. I search for my parents' faces in the crowds, and meet my mother's eyes.

"Don't worry!" She mouths to me, though I can see the tears threatening to spill over, even from so far away. At some point, a boy's name was called, as I hear Celeste's familiar voice telling us to shake hands, and I turn to find myself staring into the emotionless, ruthless eyes of Mason Chadwick, the best career our district has ever had.

He crushes my hand in his grip, and then we are guided into the justice building. I start to awaken from the shock just in time to hear the noise of a gossiping crowd, then the slam of the heavy wooden doors behind us.

**Everyone who reads this gets a free virtual hug! 3 **

**Everyone who reviews with receive a free virtual cookie! (::) (::) (::) **


	3. Chapter 3

_**[A/N] So there was only 1 review between me and CR3ATIV3 for chapter 2.**_

_**So, guest (whoever you are) gets a free cookie! (::)**_

_**Also here's a fun fact: I wrote all Isabelle's chapters and CR3ATIV3 wrote all August's. We then edited each others.**_

_August's POV_

I walk slowly into the Justice Building, dragging me feet behind me. Why did I volunteer? Why? It was stupid; I just wanted the chance to escape! But I could've escaped anyway; I'm 17 so I would be spending less time with him. Why now though? I do have quite a good shot at the games, I'm good with an axe, I'm strong, but I'm nothing like the careers! I mean sure; district 7 does have the most victors, after the career districts (1, 2 and 4) obviously. It's because, even though we don't spend our whole life training, we do work from the age of 10 and as we work in lumber it makes us strong and used to weapons!

Peacekeepers guide me to a room where I am left alone. The room is quite small with boring beige walls plastered with pictures. On closer inspection I realise that each picture is a framed photo of a different victor. Underneath each picture is their name, their age and the year they won the Hunger Games. The one that catches my eye is a picture of a 16 year old boy – Jaike Marrin. He is the victor of 3 years ago. He won quite skilfully, he made an alliance of four strong tributes, his district partner, the girl from 3 and the boy from 11. They attacked the careers while they were sleeping, leading into a long battle that left Jaike the last one alive.

I remember watching those games; I was 14 and sat alone in the house. My dad had gone to the liquor shop and the final battle had almost finished. I watched Jaike as he dug his axe into the back of the last remaining tribute, the boy from 2. Afterwards he collapsed to the floor in tears, crying over the body of his dead district partner, that the boy from 2 had killed. He then saluted to the sky and walked over to his other two friends. After the girl from 3 died, the boy from 11 held her hand as he slowly bled to death. I watched Jaike put his hand over theirs as the ladder fell down towards him. I've never cried during the games, I believe it's disgusting, but when I saw Jaike's face looking over his dead companions, it brought tears to my eyes, seeing the loss and sadness in his face.

I snap away from my daydream, I seem to be lost in my thoughts quite often. I look at Jaike's picture; he has short, curly, brown hair with deep green eyes. Freckles are dotted on his kind, round face mainly over his nose and cheeks. I think Jaike is one of the mentors this year as he was sat on the stage next to the mayor all the way through the reaping.

I stare round the rest of the room and see there is only a sofa so I carefully sit down on it, my mind still spinning over the idea of the games, maybe even having to go through everything he did; the loss of friends and the guilt of killing. I heard after the games he refused to leave his house in the victor's village because he was so overcome with guilt and sadness.

I look up and see my only friends, Manx and Ryder, staring down on me like I'm a lost puppy. They say nothing; just sit beside me on the sofa. "Look after my dad. He can't look after himself!" I suddenly say to them.

"You can win! You're strong, you can use an axe. Make some allies and they'll help you!" Manx tells me.

"I don't want to kill anyone though! I don't want to be in the games, I can't do it!" I reply, starting to cry. My friends put their arms on my shoulder and try to soothe me.

"You can do it! Just try not to kill anyone!" Ryder assures me.

"But in the final battle-" I start

"In the final battle, it'll be okay!" Ryder finishes. We sit and talk about strategy ideas until the peacekeepers enter the room, telling me I must leave. Two peacekeepers escort me out side to where Menic and Danielle wait with more peacekeepers. They lead me through a swarm of capitol journalists and paparazzi to a car. As I pass I notice many people holding weird sticks push them in my face and ask me questions, the sticks probably record my voice. I sit in the posh capitol car and stare out the window while the other girl, Danielle, starts to talk to Menic. It's not normal for a tribute to be chatty and seem happy, especially a non-career.

I stare longingly out into the woods, never have I wanted to be there more than I do now. The crisp, gentle air fills my senses as I open the window, the gentle pine spell wafting into the car. I love that smell, it has always calmed me.

I don't remember my first trip to the woods as I was only 3. My parents didn't want to take me to the woods until I was able to walk and talk confidently, just encase. Although, the earliest memory I have was in the woods. I can't remember my age or anything, just this small memory. I was watching a butterfly that was sat on some bluebells. Its white wings gleamed in the sunlight as they slowly fluttered up and down. I remember trying to catch it but all I managed was a few small purple petals. I watched longingly as it slowly flew away.

These feelings have stayed with me throughout my life – the longing for something out of my reach. Firstly the need of a mother figure, then the need of a good fatherly one. I've never felt quite in place but that's just how the world works!

The car stops snapping me from my daydream. I look outside to see the last view of the outside suddenly covered in many people taking my picture. Some peacekeepers drag me from the car and escort me to the train. They take me to a plush carriage where we find Jaike and Maia laughing and drinking a golden capitol drink with lots of bubbles in it. They stand up to greet us as we walk in.

"I'm Jaike and this is Maia! We will be your mentors!" Jaike says with a smile, his curls bouncing off his forehead as he talks. He seems like a nice guy. Maia on the other hand looks slightly scary; she has long black hair and chocolate coloured skin. She looks kind but then you see the long cut across her face and the eye patch in the middle covering what once was her eye. Although her other eye is pretty and chocolate brown.

Jaike and Maia sit us down in the carriage and tell us about their games, what they did, who their allies were. I listen inventively trying to pick up any hint possible. After an hour or two of talking we are taken to the dining carriage of the train.

The walls and ceiling are white, with gold swirly patterns, while the floor is elegant black tile. The room has one huge table covered, end to end, in plates of food. I sit down in a cushioned wooden dinner chair at the head of the table, so I have full view of all the food.

I decide not to eat much, as not eating much normally makes you unable to eat very much. I take a chicken leg, pizza and some fruit. As we eat, Maia and Jaike give us as many tips as they can. "Try to get into an alliance; other people's skills can help you a lot in the arena." Maia explains.

"We'll be saving any sponsorship we get and only send it to you when you desperately need it. If either of you make it to the final battle then we'll send all of the remaining sponsorship money to give you help!" Jaike tells us

"What do we do in the bloodbath?" I ask

"Grab whatever you can and run to water, it'll help you because you can't live long without water. Then hide!" Jaike replies

"Where should we hide?" Danielle asks.

"I think the best place to stay in a big, thick, tall, concealed tree! Then you are likely to be camouflaged!" Maia says. "Or in a hidden cave, there's always one, most are hard to find." I listen to the way they talk, it's like they say the same thing every year, which is likely. I've finished my food not so I just sit and listen to them speak.

"When you make a fire, don't put anything green on it, the smoke will give away your position to other tributes." Jaike explains "Also, stay away from the force field surrounding the arena, it could kill you!"

The train slows down to a stop. "Are we here?" Danielle asks with a big smile on her face, she starts bouncing up and down and goes to the window.

"No, we're just stopping off for fuel." Jaike replies dully. Danielle stops bouncing and stomps out to her room. "You should go to bed too, it's getting late and you have a long day tomorrow." He adds.

I leave the room, back into the main room of the train where Menic is sprawled out on an arm chair, drunk to the point of unconsciousness. I laugh at his helpless figure as I continue to my room.

My room is amazing. My name is printed in gold on the white door. The walls and ceiling are black, dotted in stars with every constellation you can name. The floor is fluffy, dark blue carpet that is soft beneath my feet. I have a massive king size bed and a huge wardrobe. There is a book shelf and a desk that will be good.

I look in the wardrobe and it gives me a pair of shorts which I put on, then I grab a book and hop into bed. The book I picked up was 'The history of the games' I open to a random page and read from there! I've read this book before so I don't mind skipping bits.

_In the beginning of the games there were no 'careers' but after a few years people started to realise how the tributes from 2 won the most as they were strong from training to be peacekeepers. They started to ally with the tributes from 1 and 4, the slightly richer districts. As this alliance group started to work they did it on most years. Eventually district 1 and 4 got used to winning more so by the 15th games they had opened training centres in the districts. These three districts became the career districts..._

After a while I decide to stop reading and switch off the lights. The stars on the ceiling are solar powered so when the lights switch off they give off a slight glow, like real stars. My bed is the best I've ever seen, with feather pillows, a soft mattress and a huge, warm duvet. I fall to sleep very quickly and for once I actually get a good night's sleep!

_**Please, no hate! (constructive criticism is welcome, however.) CR3ATIV3 made up the book extract as that's how we believe the career districts started!**_

_**Some people think district 4 isn't career but it is. Just in the film they weren't mentioned!**_

_**Please review, we do enjoy reviews!**_

_**They are so nice.**_

_**No reviews make it seem like there's not readers!**_

_**You can ask questions, give ideas or just tell us your thoughts!**_

_**You get dice if you review (I have too many!)**_

_**|::| |::| |::| |::| |::|**_

_**Please read CR3ATIV3's stories too!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, it's me!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own characters.**

I sit in a room furnished with plush armchairs and bookshelves, feeling numb and tiny compared to the large red leather chair I am sat in. My parents walk in, in front of a peacekeeper who shuts the door behind them.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing I can say to them as tears cloud my vision and a lump rises in my throat. My mother rushes over to me and pulls me into a hug.

"It's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done. Just try and come back." She whispers to me.

"Try and get in with the careers. Talk to Mason about it. Take every piece of advice the trainers give you. Use your advantages. Stay by the water, if there is any. Think about what your brother did." My father's voice cracks at the mention of my brother.

"Train as much as you can. Be interesting in the interviews. Get sponsors." Mom instructs. "You've got a good chance, Izzy, you can win this!" My father strokes my hair gently. I hug him, then my mother again. A peacekeeper comes in and pulls me off them.

"We love you, Isabelle." My mother tells me, before letting go of my hand and leaving. The big wooden door slams. I run to it and try the handle, but it is locked.

"Mum! Dad!" I shout, but I know they can't hear me. Tears roll down my face when I think about how that might be the last time I ever see them, but I brush them away quickly. Nobody else will come. Nobody else knows me well enough to care about me. I try the handle again. The door opens and I stumble back, but it's only Coral, one of the mentors. She has straight, mousy brown hair cut in a bob, and pale blue-grey eyes. She was a career, and it shows. She is clearly strong and muscular, as well as tall.

"Ready to go?" She asks, but leads me out before I can answer. We walk out the back of the justice building and into a sleek, black car. Mason and I sit next to each other in the back on a wide, luxurious leather seat, with Celeste in the front.

"So, Isabelle, Mason, are you excited?" She squeaks from the front seat.

"Yes, I'm ready." Says Mason confidently. I hate him. He's so cocky and obnoxious.

"Isabelle?" She twists her head to look at me. I look at my knees, my hands knotted together in my lap. I shrug and stare out the window at the crowds in the street, trying to discourage any further conversation. The inside of the car slips into silence and moves up the road to the train station. A crowd of people are gathered on the platform, and a group of camera men snap pictures of us and we have to push past them to enter the train. The metal doors slide shut behind us.

"Lunch will be ready in 5 minutes. You can go to your room now, or come to the dining car and wait." Coral tells me.

"I'll go to the dining car." I say in a tiny voice. "Hey, cheer up. The food's great!" Coral bounces down the corridor and I follow her. Another metal door slides open automatically as Coral approaches it, and we step into the richly decorated room. The floor is covered in thick, blue carpet and in the centre of the room is a large wooden table, mahogany, I think. 2 girls with pale skin and dark hair are placing plates full of food, some of which I have never seen before, on the table.

"Sit down!" Says Coral.

"Celeste and Mason will be here in a minute. You can start, if you want." I sit in one of the cushioned chairs and put a bread roll on my plate. I'm not hungry as I only had my breakfast a couple of hours ago, but I pick at the roll. Mason, Celeste and Jace, the other mentor, walk through the door, Celeste chattering very loudly to Mason who doesn't look very happy about it. She turns her attention to me.

"Hello, Isabelle! How are you?" She asks enthusiastically.

"I'm okay." I reply quietly. "Good to hear! Are you hungry? All this food is traditionally from the Capitol! Isn't that a treat?" Celeste tells me happily. Yeah, what a treat. The best food in the world for a few days, then no food at all. I go back to picking at my roll. "Just think, this time tomorrow, you'll be preparing for the opening parade! Isn't that an exciting thought?" Isn't that an annoying accent? I really want her to shut up now, but I start eating so that she doesn't expect me to answer. Out of the window, I can see the sea getting further and further away. I sigh and scoop up some more of the green soup in my bowl. After lunch, the pale girls clear the plates away and Coral, Jace and Mason disappear down the corridor to their rooms. Celeste offers to take me to my room, and she bustles into the corridor, her puffy magenta skirt barely fitting in the narrow hall.

"Dinner will be served at 7 o'clock. Don't be late!" Celeste hurries off down the corridor, leaving me stood outside my room, feeling small, lost and alone.

My large room contains a huge double bed, bedside table, TV on the wall and a large wooden wardrobe. I spend the next hour or so watching the Capitol news and replays of the reapings. There were volunteers in districts 1, 2, and a boy from 7 who volunteered for a tiny crippled boy. The news in the Capitol seems to consist of only fashion updates, Hunger Games updates, or Hunger Games fashion updates. I must have fallen asleep because when I sit up again, it is dark outside and some one is knocking at the door.

"I brought you some food. Sleep well." Coral says, handing me a small plate with little triangular sandwiches set in a pattern on it.

"Thank you. Goodnight." I close the door, set the plate down on the bedside table and look for some pyjamas in the wardrobe. There are more clothes in there than I have ever seen in my life. Dresses, skirts, trousers, shirts, shoes and jewellery, as well as an entire shelf dedicated to nightwear. I pull out a white vest and blue shorts, put them on and place my dress in the back of the wardrobe behind a fur coat. After eating the sandwiches, I slip under the soft, thick, fluffy duvet and try to fall asleep.

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